One month later
His eyes struck him first. In the two centuries which has passed they had grown even fiercer, still burning a bright gold. The colour gold should be, much more vibrant than the watch on his wrist. Erskine was the first person he had seen to really suit modern clothing. His white shirt was buttoned to the very top with a neat tie falling central. The trousers and jacket were of the same void-like, black material. It had been a long time since Hopeless had seen a clean shaven Ravel. Even his hair was styled in a different way. Somehow though, despite every single difference, he was still the same man he had loved so strongly yet so cowardly.
As he neared, Hopeless looked down. He was masked by a new face yet Erskine had always found a way to recognise him. The Dead Man rushed past him, obviously stressed about something. His eyes lingered on his back, his heart pelting inside his chest. That had been the closest they had came yet. For a few days now Hopeless had been watching him from afar. Their reunion was yet to happen.
Once Erskine was well away, Hopeless continued to walk through the unfamiliar place he had once called his home. Ireland, where the stars once shone and there wasn't a friendlier soul.
Somehow he ended up at the pier. At least the sea hadn't changed. It was still clear when touched her looked blue. The same salty taste and smell. He looked out to sea, thinking for a moment. For Hopeless was a lost soul, unsure of how to live again.
He turned around to continue walking when he was hit by those same eyes yet different feelings. The gaze was cold on him but he knew those golden eyes anywhere. They belonged to the small woman who looked similar to her brother but couldn't be more different.
"Chimera," he said quietly, almost disbelieving. There was no question to who it was though her clothes were different and the way she carried herself less carefree than when she was young. The girl had grown up from what he remembered.
She hesitated, examining him. "It can't be."
"It does seem rather impossible," he admitted. "But it's me. It's Hopeless."
"How is this possible? You died. My brother saw you die. I'm delusional," she decided, turning on her heel to go. Hopeless reached out and took her arm, pulling her back to him.
"I'm real. I promise. There was a blonde necromancer. I woke up on a table to this odd world they still call Ireland."
Her eyes were still cold yet were gradually softening. "My Gods. Have you seen Erskine? He's... well, around. He would love to see you."
Hopeless shook his head. "I haven't really interacted with any of the Dead Men. I'm not planning on it quite yet."
"Whyever not?" Her tone was shocked as she still looked him up and down incredulously.
He didn't answer that, looking out to sea again. Marfach walked to beside him, looking up at him. She then took an accusing tone to say: "I can't believe you died. You left them. The war was almost over. You destroyed him. You're back. You should at least visit him."
"Awfully sorry to disappoint," he murmured.
She sighed. "I'm glad you're back."
"This world is not what it once was. It's confusing. I fail to understand what others find simple. I can't adjust," he told her. "I'm not sure what to do now."
"You'll catch up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and go and find them, him. I best be off," she said, quickly patting his arm before walking away.
